


It Is Enough

by Exorciststuck



Series: Johndaveweek 2017 [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dead Animal Mention, Johndaveweek 2017, M/M, Minor Character Death, Zombie AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 18:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11386017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exorciststuck/pseuds/Exorciststuck
Summary: "It wasn’t the cross country roadtrip with his friends he’d imagined, it really really wasn’t."John taxis three undead friends across the country in search of a cure. Sometimes, things go wrong.





	It Is Enough

John remembered being seventeen years old, bored out of his fucking mind as he filled out the mountain of scholarship applications his Dad had so helpfully printed out for him. He remembered complaining endlessly about it, his hands sore from writing so many essays about what a good student he was, how driven and innovative and _special_ he was.

He decided, as he drove his way down an abandoned interstate with his three undead friends hogtied in the backseat that he would trade a lot of things to go back to being that spoiled teenager. 

Or maybe he just wanted his friends to be the way they were before, not rotting slowly from an unidentified ailment that nobody could quite place as magic or science. What would he trade for Jade and Rose and Dave to be normal again, to not have to literally muzzle and ruthlessly tie up the people close to him? A lot of things, probably. (Definitely a Klondike bar, his mind unhelpfully provided, always clinging to any last scrap of capitalism and its normalcy that it could trudge up.)

There was nothing he could trade to change the past though- only things he could sacrifice to try and improve their future. Like sacrificing his chance to settle down in one of the many shelters popping up across the continent in favour of carting his way across the country in a ratty old Ford pickup he’d found abandoned on a suburban street halfway between the New York airport he’d left and Rose’s house. He’d made use of a similarly abandoned gas station to load up on gas and snacks- and he vividly remembered being too calm about it all- before making his way to Rose’s address. There, she’d been lying on the floor, Jade curled protectively around her, the smell of death so strong in his nose John had stopped right in the doorway to vomit. 

In retrospect, he could have been infected right then and there, the three of them becoming some undead posse of dumbasses. Somehow, he hadn’t, and they’d been mostly complacent with John locking them in the car to rummage the home and wait to see if Dave would arrive, and then when he didn’t they were still alright with being ferried across the country until he found him, sitting on the steps of his apartment building, all too still and quiet with eyes clouded over like he had an awful pair of cataracts, and he was _almost human_ but infected all the same.

It wasn’t the cross country roadtrip with his friends he’d imagined, it really really wasn’t. But thinking about it that way just made bile rise in his throat, sadness squeezing at his chest- he just had to ignore the problem, that was all. Ignore it, and drive through shelters and hospitals, begging for rumours and information on a cure. 

He’d been given the directions towards a shelter in Salt Lake City, a larger settlement that would at least have the resources to broaden their field and provide him any news. At the most- and this was a desperate, aching dream- they’d magically cure his friends, and he’d be okay. 

There was just one minor problem: the Midwest loved its tornados, and the destruction of the human race had done nothing to halt the weather. In fact, if anything, with less of post-industrial society and its many big buildings to impede its movement, the tornados only went further and faster. John had seen it in the distance as he’d driven, and immediately went towards the nearest suburb, parking his truck in an open garage in the hopes of protecting the hunk of metal, guiding his friends carefully into the home. They were more withdrawn than usual- perhaps they’d seen the tornado and knew it was for the best. Regardless, once inside Jade and Rose were happy to go settle down into a corner, and Dave stayed at John’s side.

“Might as well try to do some looting while we’re here, right?” Dave said nothing in response, and when John made his way to the kitchen he quietly followed. “It would be nice to find some bottled water. You’d think with how much everyone complained about bottles destroying the Earth, more people would have them in their homes. Do ya think it was one of those made up government conspiracies?”

What he did find was some cans of food, which he eagerly moved onto the counter so he could go through them. Jade and Rose and Dave may not have any use for canned goods at the moment, but John was ravenous, anxiety draining his energy and leaving him constantly hungry. Anything helped, even just cold cans of tomato soup. The kitchen was large though, giving him plenty to explore, distracting him into not noticing the way Dave had tensed and walked away, heading towards the staircase.

“Aw, hell yeah, canned ravioli! Dave, look, remember this?” He turned, holding the can of Chef Boyardee triumphantly. It didn’t take very long to realise Dave had walked away though, and John felt a chill run down his spine- it was rare for Dave to walk more than five feet away from him, and it usually meant he’d picked up on some sort of danger. He turned to Jade and Rose, but they were still tucked away in a shadowed corner together like feral animals, safe and out of sight. Outside he could see the winds blowing hard against the trees, but it wasn’t murderous yet. Letting out a deep sigh, he rested his hand on his machete and made his way up the staircase by the door. 

Knowing his luck, Dave would have stumbled upon an abandoned pet, and instead of befriending it John would end up toting around three zombies and a zombie dog. He began to imagine it, the floppy ears beginning to decompose and fall off completely, and the unbearable stench, when Dave had jumped out in front of him, one of those inhuman growls tearing from his throat. It snapped John out of his morbid thoughts, prompting him to actually look around, where he saw a man holding a gun pointed straight at his head.

“Hey, uh. Is this your house?” He couldn’t help but feel annoyed- he’d really wanted that canned ravioli. Dave growled again, and John realised he was being guided backwards towards the staircase by a subtle bumping against his knees.

“You’re damn right it is! And I dunno what sick fucker sent a mercenary with a bunch of undeads, but I ain’t going down without a fight!” The man’s hands were shaking, John noted, before he shifted his eyes to look at Dave, who was on the tips of his toes, poised and ready to retaliate. 

And John would have said he didn’t want to fight, but two things happened. The first was his realisation that, no matter how fucked up it was, he wanted canned food more than he wanted to placate this random guy aiming a gun at him. The second was that, for reasons John would never understand, rather than shoot at Dave and incapacitate one of the zombies he was so damn worried about, he’d aimed and shot at John. 

The way movies and books and more movies had described it, a gunshot was like a ripping sensation, and then a blooming pain that spread throughout the whole body once it realised that something traumatic and awful had just happened to it. But the pain never came, and when he opened his eyes back up (when had those squeezed shut, he wondered,) Dave was in front of him, one arm dangling uselessly at his side, his eyes turned to face John. 

The cloud that covered his eyes and dulled his expression was gone in that moment, leaving a lucidity in its place that made John stumble backwards from the intensity. He caught himself and moved forwards to meet Dave’s eyes again, but the sound of a pistol reloading sent Dave into a frenzy, speeding his way towards the man so quickly John couldn’t see him.

…A better person probably wouldn’t let his best friend kill and cannibalise someone, honestly, but John was a sick combination of too stunned and too apathetic to do much but watch as Dave killed him with a hard bite to the jugular. At least it was quick that way. Maybe he was aware of how little John wanted to watch him eat his fill, because Dave left the new corpse be, only his mouth coated red with blood- aside from the viscous almost black fluid that oozed from his arm. 

Actually, maybe he wanted first aid. The realisation that Dave had been shot was what ripped him out of his sudden paralyzation, and John nodded, fretting his way across the top floor, opening all the doors in the narrow hallway until he inevitably found the bathroom. And, underneath the sink, a first aid kit.

He settled Dave onto the toilet and opened the bag, scouring for supplies. When he found what he’d needed (bandages, alcohol, and a few other necessities and quality of care items, thank god he’d taken first aid in high school,) John set to work wrapping the bandage tightly around Dave’s arm. He sighed as he did, pausing in his work to look up at Dave “You know, it really isn’t fair that you can still flashstep like this. That’s pretty fucking scary Dave,” staring deep into those eyes, John frowned to himself at the fog that had returned to his features, presumably once the danger had passed. “I guess we’re all lucky you’re just a big sap…”

When the bandaging was finished, John rested his hands onto Dave’s knees, rubbing small circles with his palms. “I promise I’m going to fix this Dave. You, and Jade and Rose, I’m going to get you back to normal one way or another. It’s not fair for this to happen to you, to us, we didn’t deserve this. I’ll make it right, I swear.” Dave said nothing, he never did, but he let John be close to him and touch him and John never once feared for his life even after he’d watched him tear the life from a grown man, and that was enough. 

It wouldn’t be good, it would never be good as long as they were like this, but it was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> **HAPPY JOHNDAVEWEEK 2017!!!**
> 
> This day was the fanfic/fanart trade and I was really excited to use [this](http://dzueni.tumblr.com/post/146991898112) absolute heartbreaker of a comic as my inspiration, since it has always vexed and haunted me that Dzu would do something so morbid, and obviously I also wanted in on this. Rather than directly copy the comic, which seemed so perfectly well contained on its own, I expanded on the universe they'd made a little bit and tried to give some background on the very special relationship John has with his friends, especially Dave. 
> 
> Plus, I think it would have been a little much if I'd done a whole story about either finding a cure or dying trying- I understand why zombie shows never actually find a conclusion now, that shit is hard. Anyway please enjoy!


End file.
